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oppositeurmama · 3 years

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I'm your little baby doll, you’re my Mr. rock 'n' roll (Cliff booth X reader)

“SoA/N - this contains Cliff booth taking the readers virginity! If you are uncomfortable with any of the warnings, please don’t read <3

warnings - age-gap, swearing, virginity, smut, and cliff booth being a sexy mf :)

Dating cliff is exhilarating, and he is one fine, delectable meal that you can never get enough of. He is, in every damned way, insatiable.

He demands attention like a king with his courtesans, and he could have any woman he wants, because they come to him, wide eyed and open mouthed, drawn in like a fluttering moth to a hazy gold flame, unable to resist. But despite the onslaught of women wearing short skirts and tight tops, practically drooling down their chins at the very thought of him, Cliff chose you.

You were a breath of fresh air; a revelation. Something so unmistakably pure, pretty and perfect that he simply had to have you, he just had to! and could you blame Cliff, really, when you were also head-over-heels in love with him?

So, you’d met by chance when you were working on a movie set, grabbing drinks and snacks for the actors, sweating through a thin polka-dot dress, perspiration pooling between your breasts, pushed high in that tiny yellow tea-dress Cliff couldn’t compliment enough.

“You look mighty fine today, darlin’.” Cliff said, kindly, and took the water bottle you offered him with calloused, coarse hands. His thumb grazing the back of your own, so starkly dainty aside his, and you’d never truly considered yourself a flimsy little thing but beside him? Well, you might’ve been a simple dove, and he a fearsome wolf.

“Thanks, cliff.” You replied with a weak smile, darting over to grab some napkins for Rick, who’d spilled his water down his lap and groaned, angrily, at his own foolish clumsiness.

“Damn it!” Rick said, snatching the napkins from your hands, dabbing at his white trousers hastily before it could seep further through the fabric.

Cliff pointed at you, chuckling. “That was your fault, darlin’.”

You glared at him, hands on your hips. “How the hell was it my fault?” You asked, nose stuck high in the air, seething through clenched teeth.

Cliff’s teeth suck into his lower lip, and sucked in a dry gulp of air. His eyes were hooded, darker than normal, his pupils tar-black and entirely blown out. “For lookin’ too damn good.” He teased, resting his elbow on the side of the chair.

Your glare faltered, and you couldn’t wipe the stupid smile that made your cheeks turn flushed, rosy red. Even the tips of your ears turned a faint pink, and you threw a clean napkin at him, laughing. “Shut up, you flirt!”

he caught it, held it to his face and pressed a kiss against the thin white paper. You could barely make out the wide, devilish grin he wore behind the napkin, but you could hear him chuckling back, his brows raised high in his forehead. “Never.”

***

It was late at night when you finally headed towards the old, dingy bus-shelter and waited, impatiently, for the coach hired for the workers to come. You waited for 20 minutes, and then that turned to 40, and finally you slumped down against the dirty wooden bench, legs spread apart in the most unfashionable way.

“That’s a pretty sight.” Cliff said, appreciatively, a cigarette between his plush lips. His words came out low, with a cloud of cold air like dragon smoke. The acridic scent of fag ash infiltrated your nostrils, and you wrinkled your nose, hating the overpowering scent.

He leaned against the edge of the bus shelter, his hawainan shirt unbuttoned, revealing a plain white vest and tanned skin, muscles rippling in the dim light. “Hey, doll.” He began, tapping his cigarette out and letting the pearly ash fall to the ground. “Didn’t they tell ya the coach got cancelled?”

You leaned back and let out a groan of frustration. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” You cried, getting up from the creaking wood bench, dress riding up your smooth thighs. “No, they never told me.” You complained, grabbing your small yellow purse from beside the bench.

Cliff shrugged languidly and dropped the cigarette, grinding it into the dirt with the heel of his shoe. “That sucks.” he agreed, stepped closer and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, watching the rise and fall of your chest, the nervous flickering when you glanced at his boot, and then to his face, and then back to the ground again.

“So.” You said, softly, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of your lips. “You gonna offer me a ride, booth?”

Cliff cupped your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, studied your face well enough, and then smiled back. “What kinda ride are we talkin’ about?” He taunted, then jerked his head in the direction of his suave, silver car.

Ricks, no doubt. Cliff didn’t seem the type for fancy cars, or fancy girls like the main actress rick had been eying up.

Cliff opened the car door and you thanked him graciously, swept into the plush leather seat with a swish of short, yellow skirts, and the click of white high-heels, toenails painted the same shade like pale milk.

He started the car up quickly, the engine roaring loudly to life. Even though it was ricks new ride, the car smelled disinctly like Cliff.

Rolling the windows down, the cold night air fluttered through your hair, as the pale moonlight illuminated cliff’s cheekbones, gifting his eyes a lovely sheen of blue. His jaw was clenched hard, but mischief played upon his lips when he asked, quietly, “D’you date?”

“Huh?”

Cliff’s knuckles turned white and stretched over the bone. “Hand me a cigarette, will ya?” and he chucked you the lighter from his distressed, dark-blue denim jeans. You caught it between fingers slippery with cold sweat, grasped the packet of Marlboro from his shirt pocket, took a single cigarette from the paper box, and placed it between his lips, then lit it.

Cliff blew out a puff of smoke, and smiled. “Thanks, doll. I asked if you date, like . . . you got a boyfriend or some shit?”

You shook your head and glanced at him, though you could only focus on his grinning mouth, the way he held the thin cigarette with his perfect, pearly teeth, barely blunt so that if he lowered his hot, hungry mouth to your neck, it would bruise.

“No.” You responded, coolly, trying to shake away the damned rude thoughts.

“A pretty thing like you?” Cliff asked, sounding incredulous. “C’mon sweetheart, you must have a couple on the side.”

“None at all.” You said, hiding a smile as you leaned into the plush leather seat, encasing you in the masculine scent; mint, strong cologne, sweat and sharp malt whiskey. “And what about you, booth? You got a girl on the side?”

Cliff frowned, and the smoke went through his flared nostrils. “Nah.” He said, when the silence grew too loud and hostile. “I ain’t got a girl.”

“Don’t you want one?”

The words were torn out with tongue, teeth and sheer terror, though after they had left your lips, stained with cherry lip-balm, he placed his hand on your knee. “You offerin’ now, darlin’?” He questioned, brows furrowed, the hand on your knee trailing upwards, thick fingers searching for an answer.

“Maybe.” You said, coyly, as he drew intricate patterns across exposed upper thigh, fully on display for his insatiable eyes, as your heart beat faster than a rabbit caught in a snare; thump, thump, thump.

Eventually, he pulled up outside your apartment complex, small and simple, though far away from anything shabby.

Cliff noticed the way you looked at him, eyes lingering on the still-lit cigarette. “You want a drag?” he wondered, his hand squeezing your thigh a little harder, his fingers threatening to bruise.

When you didn’t have an answer for him, he took a final draw and chucked it out the window, then brought you close to him, his hand cupping your face gently, pressing his lips against your own as his mouth opened, and the smoke emptied into your own. It was erotic, as though he was giving you something more than just the final drag of his cigarette; it was as if he was giving you his soul, the last thing he could afford to give away.

Cliff pulled away, licking his lips free of your cherry gloss. “Cute.” he murmured, petting your cheek gently, then pushed open his car-door to step into the cool night, illuminated only by the waning moon.

He helped you out, ever the gentlemen, though there was a devilish glint in his eyes, and a smile on his lips that meant danger.

***

"You’re a virgin, ain’t ya?”

The words were enough to make you flinch back, brow creased with ire. “yeah.” You admitted gruffly, laying back on the couch, feet propped up in his lap, but at his mention of your (Non-existent) sex life, you moved away.

Cliff raised his hands in the air. “I ain’t meanin’ to cause offence.” and then he gripped your ankle in his tight grasp, hauling your legs back atop him roughly, though not unkindly. “Stretch out, darlin’.” He assured, petting you on the thigh as though you were a kind-of pet. “You ain’t hurtin’ me.”

You nodded and sank back into the cushions, content except for the one thought that kept you restless. Turning to look at him as he massaged the soles of your feet, you opened your mouth slowly, open and close, open and close, like a fish.

“Is it obvious?” You questioned, almost hesitant.

Cliff wasn’t watching the tv any more than you were, but when he murmured, low beneath his breath, you pretended to watch the silly show.

“Course not.” He said, nonchalant. “I’m just an expert in these things, so i can tell when someone is . . . let us say . . . inexperienced, darlin’.”

You scoffed and shook your head, amused. “You’re an expert?”

“I am.” Cliff said, almost offended you’d think he was anything less than adept when it came to sex. And he pressed a certain point near your heel, that when the tension was relieved, you nearly moaned from how good it felt; having someone take care of you, pamper you like a princess.

“I could teach you, y’know.” He offered, gazing at your face to see how you would react. and he let go of your foot, to run his big hand further up your thigh, teasing the edge of the short hem of your dress.

He rubbed the silk between his thumb and forefinger. “I could make you feel good.”

A small voice, the logical one, told you to push him away, tell him to stop all that flirty nonsense, but you couldn’t. He was older, more mature in several ways, but you connected with him, honestly, you did, and despite the age-gap, he could make you feel good; warm, bubbly . . . as though he knew what you liked more than you did, which seemed rather unfair, in your shrewd opinion.

“y/n?”

He broke the silence and stopped his hand from going any further, but he looked so damn beautiful, the light from the lamp making him glow golden, hair falling lazy over his forehead, that you didn’t want him to stop.

He’d barely touched you, and yet your panties stuck, the fabric slightly damp, to your heated core. You leaned forwards, almost throwing yourself at him, and pressed your lips hard to his. He took this as your answer, pulling you into his lap, his hardening length pressed against your clothed cunt.

You whispered his name, muffled by his incessant kissing. “Cliff.” You begged, his hands caressing your body with such skill it made you woozy, drunk with the essence of his sex appeal.

“i know, darlin’.” he assured, his large hand raised and pressed against your chest, tweaking your nipple between the thin fabric and your white bra. “I know.”

“I want you.” You admitted, as he made a path down your neck and the slender column of your throat, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses against skin, and eventually, those tender kisses turned to bites, mean bites that lacked gentility.

“Ow!” You cried, pressing your hands to his toned chest, irked that he’d bite on you like a prize hunk of meat. Cliff laughed and caught your wrist in one of his large, calloused hands as he locked you in place. The other dipped lower, between your parted thighs, to toy with your pussy; running a single finger up and down, before pushing your panties to the side.

“Tell me how i feel?” he asked, kissing you with such ferocity it knocks the weak resistance from your body as you crumple, utter putty, in his expert grasp. “Good?”

You nodded in agreement, and he picked you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his trim waist, carrying you to bed, though he nearly crashed headlong into the doorway, before throwing you unceremoniously on the bed.

Cliff undressed you, tugging down the pretty yellow dress and leaving it as a puddle on the floor, until you were exposed to his wandering gaze. White bra, white pants; nothing special, but to him? Oh, you were perfect.

he ran his hand over your waist, as your nails skimmed his muscular chest, hidden by the white vest. “Take it off.” You commanded, though you lacked the authority Cliff held over you.

Cliff smiled cockily and shed himself of the Hawaiian shirt, then the vest. He let it pool in the same puddle he’d left your dress in, though more untidily. He knelt down, dragged you by the ankles to the edge of the bed, then kissed you on the softness of inner thigh, his breathing hot and humid against your clothed cunt. He slid his hand across your stomach, lingering on your hip for more than a moment, before venturing higher and grasping at your breast through the thin lace bra.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, darlin’.” he assured, the vibration of his words eliciting a gasp from your mouth, and god, did he keep his promise.

He took his sweet, sensual time. Languid, though not lazy, he guided your panties off with his teeth, before gently tugging them the rest of the way down with his hands, as he pressed a tender kiss to the top of your mound.

“yes.” You murmured, his tongue penetrating your soaking slit, throwing your legs over his burly shoulders as one hand tweaked your nipple, and the other held your hip down. Fire licked through your body, his fingers kneading your breast as he ate you alive, and you crumbled beneath him, falling apart on his tongue.

“You okay, darlin’?”

You nodded eagerly as he slowly sucked your core, eyes rolling back as you reached down to tug at his hair. he chuckled dryly and ran his tongue up the length of your slit, tongue swirling around your clit before dipping inside, his fingers digging into your hip.

You gasped, taken aback, when he forced two of his thick fingers inside your dripping hole, but he stilled you with a gentle squeeze at your hip. “Easy, girl.” He crooned, placing a soft kiss to your sensitive clit. “Just lay back and let me make you feel good, alright?”

Your back arched, as you slid your hand over his shoulder and up the back of his tanned neck, as he apologised, parting himself with you to rid himself of his denim jeans and nothing else. From his pocket, he produced a packet of condoms and slid one over his length, as you propped yourself up on elbows, glancing up at him, hazy with lust.

Cliff settled himself between your legs as you felt your face flush beet-red. He lowered himself down on the bed, pressing his lips firmly against yours, devouring your mouth, guiding his hard cock into your pulsing cunt, near climax.

"You’re gonna take me so well, darlin’.” he assured, as the head of his cock pushing inside you. You gasped and gripped his bicep, your whole body tense when he ran his tongue up your neck before he bit down hard, leaving marks across your skin, and he sunk inside your wet pussy.

Cliff held you close, whispering praises in your ear as the pain subsided and he settled himself fully inside you, bottoming down against your pelvis, his skilful thrust making goosebumps prickle your skin.

you squeezed your thighs around his waist, dug your nails into his skin, mouth falling open as he pushed a little harder, his hand coming down between your bodies to play with your sensitive clit. "Tell me what you want, y/n."

"You, all of you. Please, cliff.”

“Anything you want, darlin’.” he promised, and as he sped up his thrusts, the rough way his fingers played with your clit, caused your pussy to clench around his cock, tits bouncing with his harsh thrusts. He licked his lips and looked back up as your mouth fell open and let out a strangled gasp. Your walls tightened around him, and he kissed you roughly, muffling your cries of pleasure.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” he grunted, delivering another hard thrust, working you through the orgasm, chasing his own in the process, and he interwinted his fingers through yours.

When he came, he came hard; locking you into the mattress, thrusting so hard and fast it set you gasping for air, your chest rising and falling with every skilled touch he wished to give you, and then he pulled out, kissing your face gently, crooning soft words of comfort.

“That’s my girl.” He murmured, wrapping you tight in his embrace. “You did so fuckin’ well, darlin’.”

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oppositeurmama · 3 years

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The Bear and the maiden fair (Bjorn X Reader)

A/N - this contains smut with dubious consent! I don’t want anyone to get triggered, so if you are not comfortable with this, pls don’t read! <3

Warnings; violence, dub-con

P.s - I don’t condone any of the following actions, I find it repulsive.

The castle had been stormed hours ago. The villagers had died first, slaughtered in their homes and in their forges, the blacksmiths branded with their own tools, the butchers sliced and diced like prized hogs. And after the village had been burned to the ground, the plunderers came to the castle. They forced down the great oak doors, killed any who stood in their way.

My father had been the first to die. He’d been on his throne when one of the barbarians had launched a spear, and it hit him straight through the gullet, the sharp iron tip pinning him into the wood backrest. My mother had been the second to die, after she screamed for god to help.

But the gods were cruel. They didn’t listen to women anymore, even high-born ones like me, even though i was the lucky one. As my family were gutted, i had hid in the only place i could dare think to hide; my bedroom. It wasn’t a clever or sneaky place to hide, to be true, but the door locked and there was only one key, and i was the sole owner.

***

Hours passed. The screams filled my castle, blood splattered the wall and stained the cobbled floors, and those damned screams and pleas of help fell on deaf ears, forgotten by the barbaric cries of the savages who seeked only to slaughter, to take and to take, to never give back.

I was beneath my bed when the door came crashing down. A great axe stuck through the wood and stripped back the bark, hack hack hack! I held my breath, placed my hands over my mouth as my chest heaved, seeking sanctuary in the dark low confines underneath my wooden bed.

The door opened, squealing on iron hinges. Goosebumps prickled my skin. The viking stepped through the doorway, treading heavy over chunks of splintered wood and debris. “Princess.” He called, in a growling rasp. “You ran, little princess, and we didn’t know where.” The viking walked across the vast expanse of my room and he dragged his sword against the floor, the iron sparking against the cobbles. “i found you, princess. And now . . .”

I swallowed a sob and the scraping of his sword stopped. He turned on his heel and before i could barely comprehend, he’d gripped my ankle and pulled me out from under the bed. “You’re mine!”

He pinned me down, and I glanced up at him, too frightened to dare speak, my words catching in my throat, my tongue growing fat from fear. And despite my terror, no tears fell. “Bjorn ironside.” I said, shakily. “You’re Bjorn Ironside.”

A flash of moonlight set his face alight. His smile was cruel and thin. “I am.” He admitted, and my jaw trembled. My chest heaved with the effort it took to breath and not scream for help, or even to sob. “Are you going to kill me?”

Bjorn smiled and gripped my jaw between his thumb and forefinger. He studied me as though i was a fine piece of art-work, his favourite book, a goddess of lore. Finally, he spoke. “No, i won’t kill you. You’re too . . . sweet, for a thing like that, princess.”

I tensed my shoulders, but his eyes were too bright, almost eerie. They cut through me like glass, stripped me bare, left me ashamed and uneasy. His voice was a low, guttural rasp. “Will you fight me, little princess?” He questioned, raising my hands above my head. “Will you beg me to stop?” He took a small dagger from the leather throng at his side, and used it to divulge me of clothing.

I shook my head. “No.” I said, quietly, too meek to even resist. I truly beleived that, even if i tried to protest or even raise my knee to that tender spot between his legs, he’d beat me black and bloody.

At my answer, the Viking smiled. “Good.”

The stone floor was cold against my back. Even if i wanted to fight, i couldn’t. He was too heavy, covering me with his bulk. His hands were rough and careless against my skin, as the icy blade of his dagger slit the soft silk of my bodice and when he lowered his face to kiss me, i tasted blood.

Bjorn’s fingers were mean and cruel against my warm skin, and they travelled to my core, only to find me dry. He grunted against my mouth, irked. When we parted, i turned my face to the side, wrinkled my nose up in disgust.

Bjorn chuckled lowly and spat on his hand, then lowered it between my legs. “Don’t worry, princess.” He assured, slipping a thick finger into my cunt. “You’ll learn to like this soon enough.”

It was uncomfortable and foreign. I squirmed and his hot, hungry mouth lowered to bite and nip and kiss my neck. I tried to lift my torso, but he was impossible to move. “Don’t.” I said, harshly.

He raised his face and smiled. I spat in his face.

His eyes grew cold, like pale blue ice. It frightened me, and my heart beat heavy and hard beneath my chest, thump thump thump, faster than a snared rabbit’s. “Fiesty, huh?” He questioned, and laughed cruelly.

The swollen head of his cock was at my entrance. He was big, and he was brutal. With one hand pinning my arms above my head, the other gripped my hip, leaving bruises in his wake. and with one sharp thrust, i wept.

His jaw clenched and, as though he was punishing me, Bjorn pulled his hips back hard if only to slam back inside me again. The metal of his armour scratched my tender skin, and my cunt burned around his cock, raw and red and aflame.

His movements grew more frenzied, the harsh thrusting depriving me of air in my lungs. His hand firmly squeezed my hip, my back hit the ground hard, and then I collided against his torso the next. It was almost as if we were fighting instead of coupling. When he thrust forward and the tip of his dick hit my cervix painfully, a bolt of hot pain shot through my stomach when he slammed back into me, harder than before. I shut my eyes and yelped.

He grimaced and pushed me back to the floor, with his hand forcing my arms into the stones. His groin bumped against my sensitive mound, assuring that no trace of my precious maidenhead remained. “Hold onto me.” He grunted, lifting up one of my thighs.

I glanced over his muscular shoulder, my eyes trained on the ceiling and the twinkling chandelier, though in the gloom everything was unrecognizable. I did as he bid, wrapped my legs around his hips and looped my arms around his neck, unwilling to fight anymore.

When Bjorn thrust inside me, it didn’t hurt as much. Encouraged, i clutched at him as tightly as i could, the smell of sweat and blood filling my nostrils, the sound of his moans vibrating against the shell of my ear. I arched my back and predicted his cruel thrusting, and slowly, the friction from Bjorn’s cock pounding away at my cunt managed to rouse a queer tickling sensation at the pit of my stomach. My eyelids grew heavy.

Bjorn lowered his other hand to palm my breast, pushing aside the silk fabric of my slashed dress, as he rolled my hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “You like that, princess?”

My cunt clenched at his incessant pounding. I dug my nails into the tanned nape of his neck, and whimpered. He pressed his warm lips to mine and kissed me, tasting strongly of iron. His beard scratched my face, and he plunged his tongue deeper into my mouth. He brought his hand between our bodies and i flinched, expecting more pain, only to find pleasure; hot, flashing bolts of pleasure.

The friction of his manhood as he tirelessly impaled me, and the queer warmth which was pooling in my stomach tainted my thoughts. I moaned into his mouth and he cursed, “Fuck.”

Beneath him, my whole body shook when he played with my clit. I hit my peak, toes curling, back arching, breasts pushed flat against his muscled chest, quivering and whimpering beneath him, my gasps and pleas smothered by his hot, hungry mouth. And with my climax, came his.

Bjorn shoved himself to the hilt and uttered a long, low growl. He kept me flush against him for more than a moment, and after a few desperate thrusts, he stiffened and collapsed, crushing me beneath his bulk.

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. When he pulled out and leaned back on his heels, lifting up my silk skirts to look admiringly at my tender pussy, he grinned. Between my thighs was a sticky mess of cum and blood. He leaned down and licked the entirety of my cunt from hole to mound, and i pushed him away, too tender to be played with. “Please.” I begged, shaking my head. “No more.”

Bjorn crawled atop me and wedged his knee between my thighs to keep me from closing them. “Easy now, princess.” He muttered, capturing my face in his hands, pressing his lips to mine. He kissed me rough and i tasted blood, my blood, on his tongue. “You’re mine.” He said, finally. “All mine.”

#Bjorn #bjorn ironside #vikings #ragnar #ragnar lothbrok #ivar #ivar the boneless #sigur #sigurd snake in the eye #hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarrson #hvitserk lothbrok #ubbe #ubbe ragnarsson #aslaug #vikings smut #bjorn smut #bjorn lemon #bjorn ironside dub-con

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oppositeurmama · 3 years

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Baby, you can live your whole life holdin’ down (Cato X reader)

A/N - this contains smut btw! so if you’re not comfortable with that, don’t read besties <3

I sat in silence and watched the sky darken to black, as the pale moon hung high over the frothy clouds of grey. The train headed towards the capitol, a long stretch of land that comprised of tall white buildings made of glass, concrete and marble. Above my head, the crystal chandelier swung, and tinkled lightly like the wind-chimes back home. i was from district 2 and, altough the finery wasn't foreign, it still felt unnatural. I looked down at my hands and chewed my nails, spat them on the clean floor, and felt even my prescene made the train carriage feel dirty.

"You shouldn't do that." Cato warned, turning his head to face me. He'd came out of the shower with only the white towel wrapped around his trim waist, and his damp hair hung floppy over his forehead. "If someone attacks you, you can gouge their eyes out."

I picked up a slice of dry toast and chewed, then swallowed. It stuck to the back of my throat and i reached for the glass of orange juice. I drank it down in four quick gulps, wiped my mouth with the back of my black sleeve, and smiled. I waved my hand in his face, the shorn nails too ugly for a tribute. "Too late."

Cato pushed my hand away from his face and grimaced. "Get your fuckin' hand out of my face, y/n."

I wrinkled my nose at him, glanced down at his torso and frowned. I stood up from the booth and grabbed the decanter of harsh malt whiskey that sat on the counter, snatched a fresh glass from the cabinet and set it down beside the decanter. I poured myself a large glass and glanced at him over my shoulder, "Get some clothes on then, asshole."

I heard loud footsteps behind me. Cato grabbed the glass out of my grasp and held it above my head. "You can't be drunk infront of the cameras." He warned, then jerked his head in the direction of the booth. I shook my head and reached for the glass. "Give me it." I demanded, pushing him in the chest. He barely stumbled, but he smiled. It was a mean smile, with sharp white teeth and dimples that danced. "Sit down, then."

"Fuck you." I spat, going back over to the booth. I crossed my arms over my chest and tilted my head up, nose stuck in the air indignantly. "Now give me the drink."

Cato studied me for a moment, his lower lip caught between his teeth. He shook the glass gently and some of the whiskey sloshed over the sides, onto the floor. His gaze was hot and burning and blue. He raised the glass to his lips and drank it down, to which i stood up. He stormed over, placed his hand on my shoulder and shoved me back down into the seat. "No, sweetheart. I told you to sit, so fuckin' sit down."

I glared at him. "You're an dick."

Cato cupped my face in one large hand, then turned my face to both sides, as though he was studying me like his favourite book. "Maybe." He admitted, holding my chin between his thumb and forefinger. "-But you love it, don't you?" He lowered himself until his warm breath fanned over my face, and he pressed his mouth against mine before i could shove him off. Though, i didn't want to shove him off. He tasted like sharp whiskey, and something more, maybe it was sin.

I knew what we were doing was wrong when he groaned, his hand moving away from my face to pick me up from the seat, and settled me on the floor. I squirmed beneath his bulk, and his face was inches from mine. I wrapped one arm around his neck and pulled him down, the wish to be covered completely by my district partner overwhelming. His lips met mine once more and his tongue slipped into my mouth. Beneath the towel, he was hard. I felt his length against my inner thigh and he parted, breathing heavy, my own chest rising and falling when Cato slipped his hand between our bodies and tugged down my trousers, practically ripping the black cloth from my body. The floor was cold beneath me, and i shivered, Goosebumps prickling my skin, nipples peaked from both the thrill and the chill in the room.

"Take your shirt off." He demanded, and i did it. I'd have done anything for him in that moment. I tugged my shirt over my head and he lowered himself atop me, his large hand running down my stomach and then between my legs, where he lowered himself and kissed a wet path with his hot, hungry mouth. From lips, to neck, to collarbone and to breast, he sucked a dark mark wherever he desired. And then he rested his lips above my mound, and tugged my black panties down with his teeth.

"Do you want this?" He wondered, his blonde brow furrowed. He never touched me with his fingers, down there. I think he knew i was a virgin, unsullied. I think he knew i wanted him inside me, though. And he was so big, i felt his warm length against my thighs, separated from my flesh by a mere snowy towel. I nodded, eagerly. "I want you." I admitted, threading my fingers through his tawny hair. He grinned and kissed my inner thigh, gentle. "I won't keep you waiting, sweetheart."

My heart raced, a desperate thundering like that of an ensnared rabbit; Thump, Thump, Thump.

Cato's mouth met my pussy and his tongue licked a long, hot stripe against my clit. I closed my thighs instinctively, and he parted them, his large hand on my hip, pressing me down into the cool floor. I raised my hips and kicked both my legs over his burly shoulders when he went to town on my cunt, devouring me whole, wrenching an orgasm through my parted lips. Cato's grip was bruising, and i exhaled sharply when he spoke darkly, his words sending vibrations straight to my clit. "Tell me you like it."

I gasped when he rubbed my clit with the calloused pad of him thumb. "I like it!"

He looked at me through his blonde eyelashes, his tongue darting out expertly to lick and lap at my dripping pussy, and my climax was inevitable. When he reached up to palm at my breast and pushed the bra aside, tweaking my nipple with his thumb and forefinger, i came. I sank my teeth into the palm of my hand and closed my eyes, hips bucking into his warm mouth, but he pinned me in place, smiling cruelly whilst he slipped two fingers inside my dripping hole. I fluttered around his thick fingers, the intrusion foreign, though not unwelcome. He let out a low grunt of approval to finding me slick.

"I'm gonna fuck you, now." He said, and gripped me by the chin to pull me in for another kiss. He'd pulled the towel off and my eyes widened when i saw the hard, huge cock between his thighs. I pressed my hands to his chest, felt the hard muscle beneath my fingertips and I whined against his lips. "-And you're going to love it."

He entered me quickly, without giving me time to adjust, and when i cried out, tears springing to my eyes, he wiped them away before they could fall. I shifted beneath him, my cunt raw and red with the harshness of his thrust, but he stilled me. Cato kept me in place with his bulk and his big hand, reaching down to slip between my legs, tweaked at my sensitive clit, because he wanted me to enjoy it.

I let my arms raise and fall over his shoulders, and he raised my thighs, instructed me to wrap them around his hips. I did it, i did everything he wanted, and he plucked another orgasm from me with his thumb on my clit, and his cock thrusting away angrily as though it had a personal hatred for my pussy. I clawed his back with my short, shorn nails and he grimaced, grunting in pleasure. "Fuck, this pussy's tight."

I closed my eyes and pressed my lips against his, and he kissed me. I'd never felt so full in my life, and yet my hips bucked against his inexpertly to jumpstart my 3rd climax. I wanted to cum with his cock inside me, i had to, otherwise it wasn't fair. I'd never get another chance to fuck him after the games, altough we could find a sneaky spot in the arena and do it there. I had a hundred dirty thoughts in my mind, and he was the only one in it.

Cato thrusted against me viciously, his cock hitting spots i'd never knew existed. When he tilted his hips a certain way, a heavy moan slipped between my mouth, though it was muffled by his kisses. He paused and broke away, swept his damp hair back from his forehead and grunted. "You like that?" He asked, slamming into my dripping hole once more. I jerked beneath him and my words caught in my throat.

"Yeah, Cato." I admitted, feeling that delicious curl of pleasure trickle up through my stomach and pool above my mound.

Cato gripped my jaw and grinned. "Good."

My body jerked beneath him when he moved, every intense swoop of his hips sending me further into bliss. He lowered his mouth to my breast and teased my nipple with his pink tongue, before sucking it into his mouth and eliciting a gentle whine from my lips. I keened, throwing my chest into the air, my back arched with the pleasure he was giving to me. Tears streaked my cheeks and fell, salty, down my chest. Cato bit down on my nipple, hard, and that was the only thing i needed to Cum around his thick cock.

I fell limp against the cold floor, and Cato groaned against my mouth, kissing me despite the whines of discomfort when his dick hit my cervix, when he rode out his own release. My chest heaved and i was covered in a thin, shiny layer of sweat. He spilled inside, whispering dirty things in my ear, and filled me up until i shifted, too full for his fucking to be pleasurable anymore. "Cato." I murmured, turning my face to the side.

He grinned and leaned back on his thighs, glancing down between my open legs, almost in awe. He pressed his thumb to my sensitive clit and i jolted, snapping my legs shut on instinct. Cato reached for me, shushing my whines with his gentle words, and he grabbed the towel from the floor and dabbed between my thighs. I waited patiently until he was finished cleaning up the sticky mess around my pussy, and then i took my stretched-out tee from the puddle of clothing. I stuffed it over my head and grabbed my trousers, but they were torn in half, the material frayed beyond fixing.

"You ruined my trousers!" I complained, getting shakily to my feet. I stumbled as my legs gave way but he caught me, careful.

"Easy, y/n." He warned, wrapping the towel around his midriff once again. I looked at him, turned away and went red. I brought my hands up to my face and shook my head, a nervous giggle seeping out through the cracks of silence. "I fucked you." I said, as though it wasn't real. I took my hands from my face and swallowed, hard. "Oh, fuck. You fucked me! Cato, you fucked me! What if . . . what if i'm pregnant." Panic overwhelmed me and i pushed him away, suddenly realising the chaos our actions might've caused.

Cato caught me and pulled me into a tight hug. "Hey! Don't say that. Okay?"

I buried my face in his bare chest. "It was only one time, right? You only came inside once so . . . it's probably won't get me pregnant. I won't get pregnant, right?" I looked up at him, my eyes wide with fright. "Right, cato?"

Cato grimaced and swept a strand of damp, sweaty hair from my face. "yeah, sweetheart. You're right."

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oppositeurmama · 3 years

Text

The other woman (Dallas winston x reader)

A/N; sorry, i haven’t been on tumblr in a while. i mostly do my writing on wattpad now so yah? @ cr4ckwhor3

warnings; Violence, angst, swearing and cheating.

Parings; reader x dallas winston

You love dallas, it’s impossible not to. He’s not perfect, far from it, but he’s your best friend. He’s stuck with you through everything. You know him so well, you can practically read his mind. It’s like looking at a book when you see his face. He’s so open and honest, can’t ever hide anything from you.

And he’s a really shitty liar. Like, a really shitty one.

and although you love him, there are times when he’s such an ass that you simply have to give him hell, because that’s the only way he’ll get it through his thick skull.

So, he tries to play it cool when you find a lacy red thong in his room. It’s beneath his pillow, crumbled and stuffed beneath the cotton as though the other woman was here minutes ago. You had been laying on the bed and dally had his head on your stomach, sighing as if he was about to fall asleep. You had touched something lacy beneath his pillow. it was a thong.

A tacky red thong with little pink bows at the side.

“jesus, y/n. I was nearly asleep.” He grumbles, scratching his head and ruffling the messy hair. You jump out of the bed, making him jolt as you move quickly, glancing at the wad of fabric like it’s not really there.

“y/n?”

You shift off the bed and hover, glaring down at the red bundle as though you could sear it. You feel hot, almost burning. Rage consumes you and you throw the pair of pants in his face. “Fucking asshole!”

You furl your hands into fists and when he sits up, face chalk-white, clutching the knickers with knuckles straining tight over bone, you crack him in the jaw. There’s tears pooling and threatening to run. You can’t help your bottom lip quivering as you hound him with insults and fierce throws. “You sleazy prick! Who have you been fucking? Who!?”

“Shit, y/n stop hitting me!” Dallas cries, grabbing you by the wrists.

“Give me a fuckin’ reason.” You spat, nails like claws as you tried to rake his face into fleshy ribbons. He’s taller than you when he stands up straight, leaning and shielding his face with one hand, whilst the other keeps you at bay. There’s sweat beading at your forehead from all those punches you threw him, and he has a particularly nasty bruise circling his right eye.

You stepped back and gasped for air, red with rage.

“Please, let me explain.” Dallas begged, wiping the blood from his split lip.

You can’t cease glaring at him. You feel like scratching his eyes out and stuffing those trashy red pants down his throat. Maybe he’d choke. That bastard deserves it, you think meanly.

“i’m not cheatin’ on you, i swear.” Dallas says slowly, almost as if he’s drunk.

You scoff. “Really?”

He comes close and tries to wipe the hair from your eyes. You flinch from him. his gaze softens and he tries to hold you. “honest, i’m not.”

“Then-”

“Sylvia came ‘round tuesday, baby.” Dallas explains, bringing you close. “She tried to pull the moves on me but got too drunk. I let her sleep over considering she looked dead to the world.”

You shake your head, still suspicious. “B-But what about the pants?” You ask, accusingly.

Dallas rests his chin on the top of your head. “She changed in the bathroom. must’ve left her pants here, alright?”

he looms above you like some incredibly intimidating prescence. He doesn’t seem so feirce with blood dribbling from his nose though. you’d socked him a good one. You felt bad though. He was your boyfriend, of course he wouldn’t cheat on you. I mean, you were just being stupid, right?

Wrong.

There’s a fresh hickey on his neck. You haven’t given him that one.

You swallow that painful lump and shift, noticing the little purple bruise that's ghosting above his collarbone. Fury boils within you. “Scumbag!”

You step back and slap his cheek with all the force and hatred you can spare. “How fuckin’ dare you lie to me!” You cry, tears streaming rapidly down your cheeks. it’s all this pent up frustration and anger that’s slipping out. all the times he said he had ‘friends’ over, any-time you’d find random lipsticks in his drawers or dressers, those times when he’d come to you, drunk and reeking of another girls perfume claiming it was some slut who was hanging near him.

You seethed as dally touched his face, eyes snapping wide open. You grabbed your little black purse from the bed and slipped on your trainers, though when he came close you pushed him roughly on the chest. “Touch me again, i’ll scream so loud the cops’ll come runnin’.”

He let you leave. You slammed the door close behind you. Fuck him. Fuck him right back in his smug, stupid face.

#dallas #fight #argument #cheating #angst #abuse #cheating fic #dallas winston #dally winston #dally outsiders #dallas winston outsiders

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oppositeurmama · 3 years

Text

Baby got blue jeans and muscles (Two-bit x darrel curtis)

A/N - I’ve never wrote a male x male pairing, so if you want to give me some advice i’d be really thankful. hope you enjoyed it, i guess x

Summary - Two-bit and darrel fuck??

Warnings - smut, angst, rough smut and swearing.

Two bit had always liked Darry. He was mature, wiser than any greaser at 20 had a right to be, and he was a good guy. there weren’t a lot of good guys left nowadays. So two-bit was glad he had Darry. He looked at him and thought, geez, what in the hell did i do to deserve you? Because Darrel was so damn beautiful. They made an unlikely match, to be true. It was a secret affair, one that should never have worked out in the public, so they kept it under wraps and indulged in stolen kisses when everyone was out of the house, or when Darry was walking home from roofing houses and two-bit had just appeared from nowhere. It hadn’t happened overnight, it had been a while before two-bit had made the first move, but it had worked.

It was during a round of mickey mouse on the tv. ponyboy was laying on the floor, snoring louder than a damn hog, drooling all over the spilt popcorn and stained cushions, and soda had been lingering in the kitchen with his hands on the phone, crooning sickly sweet love messages to sandy. Two-bit had slipped his hand into Darrel’s, and Darry had never moved his hand away, just squeezed and smiled crookedly.

So it had been hand holding, and then there was the kiss when drunk.

Two-bit had been drinking heavily on an empty stomach, crying because his sister had ran away again and his parents blamed him, and he went to the Curtis household for comfort. Only Darrel had been awake, had opened the door to a sobbing two-bit stinking of sick, swaying in the bitter wind. And he’d taken him in, shushed him incessantly, and let two lie on the couch until he was composed.

Two-bit had kissed Darry then, pushing himself off of the couch and into Darrel’s burly arms, leaning haphazardly with all his weight as Darry struggled to support them both. he hadn’t pushed away though, simply waited a moment and laid him back down on the couch, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Darrel had offered him a sad smile. “See you in the morning, two.”

and two felt like he’d fucked it all up. He had, hadn’t he?

Though when soda left for the DX and ponyboy went to school, Darrel came to him and kissed him, far meaner than he’d intended, had brought his hand round the back of his neck and forced him into the kiss, crushing his teeth against his bottom lip. And all two could murmur, smiling lazily, was that, “I’ve been waiting this day my whole fuckin’ life.”

So then came sex. It was sometimes sweet, stolen moments why shy giggles and awkward movements, where two-bit gasped because Darry was too rough with him sometimes. And sometimes it was mean, like when Darrel had a bad day at work and came home to tear his ass up, marking skin with his big hand, biting his neck and sinking his teeth into flesh to show two who he really belonged to.

Today was mean, though. It wouldn’t start with darrel bringing home to bed and plying him with kisses, saying sweet things and laying him down gently, teasing his cock through his pants. It would be darrel bargin’ in and slamming his bedroom door shut, whilst tugging two-bit through and pushing him onto the bed, spitting in his mouth and slapping him across the face. Two-bit didn’t have anything against it, but there were times when he felt it was better, more dangerous when darrel went wild and mean on him.

So darrel barged in on the sunny tuesday afternoon, gripping two-bit by the collar and hauling him off the couch. He didn’t say a word, only pulled the other boy by his shirt into his bedroom and flung him down on the bed, with two-bit landing in an unruly heap and picking himself back up, startled.

Darrel smelled dirty, like sweat and aftershave that had been washed away by the Oklahoman summer. His mouth tasted of nothing, only cruelty and desperation as two-bit guided darry’s shirt over his head. Darrel just murmured into his ear about how he’d missed him, how he couldn’t wait to ruin his dripping hole. Two-bit cringed as darry hooked his fingers through his belt-loops and tugged his trousers down, kicking down the denim, uncaring when the zipper caught two’s skin and he winced, pulling back.

“On you’re stomach.” Darrel spat, grabbing the lube he kept in the drawer, hidden beneath his boxers. He slid a condom on his length and two-bit turned, glancing at darry over his shoulder. “Are you wrapping it?” he asked, brows furrowed. Darrel laughed and held his dick at the base. “The fuck does it look like, dumbass.”

Two-bit flushed an angry red and buried his face in the pillow, ass up. He listened to the wet sounds of Darrel covering his finger’s in lube. “Hey, help me out here.” Darrel said, impatient as he hovered at the edge of the bed. he gripped two by the ankles and brought him closer, sneering a little. Two-bit held his ass cheeks apart to appease darry, let him do what he wanted, because two-bit liked it. He liked being treated like a whore sometimes, and right now he felt like he deserved it. He wanted and deserved to be treated like Darrel’s personal whore.

Two-bit moaned when darrel slid a finger inside his ass, then a second and then a third. He gasped and gripped the sheets, furling his hands into fists, thrusting his ass even higher up off the bed. Darrel stroked his cock as sweat beaded down his forehead, and he licked his dry lips. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“So much, darry.” Two whispered, as if afraid of admitting the truth. “I need it, darry. Right now, i need it. I need you. Please, darrel.” and he was breathing heavy, gasping into the pillow as if to muffle his moans. It was happening too quickly and yet not fast enough. Darrel reached under and grasped two-bits cock firmly, giving it a light squeeze and smiling when two shivered, throwing his head back a little. Darrel took his hand away from two’s cock and he practically wailed, irked with his meanness. Darry slapped two’s ass harshly, and then a second time, tutting with his tongue behind his teeth, shaking his head.

“Shit, two. Be patient, will ya?” and then he did it, slammed his cock into two-bit’s lubed hole, his back curving like the taut strings of a bow, as if he was the one hurting. It was a right, snug fight, almost too tight. Darrel gasped and reached under two again, to stroke his finger along the seam of his cock, chewing on his lip. Two-bits eyes rolled back into his head, lashes fluttering.

“You like that?” Darry whispered, gripping him harshly. His other hand came down to wrap around two-bits throat, squeezing it tightly, a threat and a warning; one that made two moan, melting into butter. He really fuckin’ loved it when Darrel did that. “Y-yeah, darrel.” Two murmured, a strand of drool dribbling down the side of his mouth. He could barely speak, just nodded and moaned, blissfully unaware.

“Dirty whore.” Darrel spat, his thrusts growing more aggresive. It was too damn good. Two bit felt like cumming, but darrel squeezed his dick again and it hurt. “Not yet, fuckin’ slut.” Darry warned, pulling his hips back. “You cum when i fuckin’ say, alright?”

Two-bit only managed to stumble over his words when darrel gripped his throat and turned his head, shaking him ruthlessly. “Look at me. Fuckin’ look at me.” Darry snarled, and two’s eyes fluttered open, naïve and guileless and unsure. “Open.” Darrel muttered, and two-bit did as he was told.

He spat into his open mouth and two-bit swallowed obediently. His cock-head was red and angry, and two nearly begged. “P-Please, darry. I can’t take . . . anymore.”

“Go on then, you filthy fuckin’ whore.”

Two-bit shot his cum so hard and fast onto the sheets as darry pounded mercilessly into his ass-hole. It wasn’t long before darry was growing shaky, his thrusts growing clumsy and not so quick, as he defiantly chased his high and threw his head back. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Two, i’m cumming.”

“I know, darry.” He murmured, propping himself up on his elbows. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled when darrel caught his gaze, hips stuttering and thrusts faltering, dumping his load messily into the condom, nearly crushing two with his weight. It was another while before darry finally pulled out, and even then, it was a while before they tore each other apart.

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oppositeurmama · 3 years

Text

I bust a move and my elderly neighbors judge me 👨🏼‍🦼

sometimes you have to pretend your kitchen is a club dance floor and get a little whorish while cooking your frozen pizza. it’s called living deliciously in a pandemic

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oppositeurmama · 3 years

Text

Peppermint and peach gloss (Ponyboy X reader)

A/N; God, i’ve watched the outsiders six times in a row lol.

Summary; Ponyboy walks a soc girl home :)

Warnings; fluff and swearing, slapping randy because he’s annoying :/

You sighed and leaned back against the cool metal seat. you were alone again, friends drinking in the back of bob’s new mustang, randy leaning out the window and asking you to come over, quit being weird. You didn’t feel like forgiving him yet ever since you caught them jumping that kid. He’d looked scared to death, small and nervous. You’d refused to talk to randy ever since then. Threw his signet ring in his face, told him to go to hell. You weren’t against fights, hell, some people deserved to get beaten, but four against one? That was just plain cruel, and the kid seemed so little.

You’d came with two other girls and now they were in bob’s car, drinking and giggling, never smoking though, because it would cling to their little sweaters and stink and then their daddy’s would get real mad. You kicked your feet and scuffed white trainers against the ground. “Y/N, don’t be awkward.” Randy cries, leaning out the car window.

You flip him off, eyes watching the movie though never really concentrating. it’s all just blurry, white and black, no colours, just blobs that might be people. You really hated your friends for leaving you to go get drunk. Randy was sweet, he wouldn’t do shit with them, though you weren’t so sure with bob though. he was weird, too touchy and spoilt, like some rich boy that hates being told no.

“Filthy fucking greaser.” Bob spits out of his car-window, and your friends squeal with laughter in the back. He peeps his horn and startles the kid. Bob reeked of vodka stolen from his daddy’s cabinet, sharp cologne that made your nose wrinkle. Randy just smelled like randy, fresh linen and vanilla because his mum loves the way it smells. he’s bitter, though, glancing out and leaning over the car, urging you to look around at him.

You turn and glare at him, glare past him at bob, the dumb fuckin’ bastard. His voice is slurred when he curses. You get a weird feeling in your stomach, like guilt and shame that you're one of them; a soc.

He’s loitering by the car, scuffing his shoes as he walks, head bent low to hide his face. He doesn’t look like a kid anymore. He looks older than you, probably the same age, though he’s tall for his age. Randy thinks your coming towards him, smiles at your forgiveness and opens the car door. “Come here, angel.”

You stalk up to him and slam the car door in his face. “Asshole!” and then, spinning on white trainers that are sinking into the dried dirt, you follow the greaser boy. You looked cold, lips pouted and painted with shiny peach gloss, a red flush coming over your cheeks ‘cause you were angry. He was just infront of you. You reached out and gripped him by the elbow, making him startle and stop. “hey!” You cried, then saw the nervous look in his face. You softened and smiled a little. “They hurt you?”

It’s a while before he responds. “No, they just-”

“Scared you?”

He shakes his head and then, shrugging, he sighs and nods. He’s a nice-looking boy, a little grubby but he’s got a pretty face. he isn’t like randy, clean-cut and cutting, but he’s got a charm, a certain charisma that makes you smile at him. “What’s your name?”

“Ponyboy.” He says slowly, as if he’s unsure whether to tell you. You don’t laugh or smile cruelly like the other soc girls do, just nod as your eyes widen, lashes fluttering. “Curtis, right?” and then you grin, dimples dancing. “We have English together.”

“Yeah.” and then he points to your outfit, “You’re a cheerleader.”

You were just out of practice when your friends wanted to catch a movie. you agreed, arguing it was too late to get dressed, argued that a cheerleading outfit was perfectly acceptable to catch a movie in. You could feel randy staring at you, really confused and a bit offended, bob glaring holes like his eyes will finish you off. You wave those mean glares away and turn towards ponyboy.

“Why’d you come after me?” He questions, brow furrowed. He has pretty eyes, lacking hatred and meanness. he has nice eyes, pretty eyes that match his face. You realised you were still holding his elbow and let go, a bit embarrassed, to hold your hands behind your back. “i felt real bad when bob . . .” You don’t need to say anymore, he already understands.

“besides.” You state, waving his concern away. “Your cute and i don’t like seeing cute guys bein’ sad.” There’s a hint of a smile playing at peachy lips, a rosy blush forming, dimples dancing and eyes twinkling beneath the moonlight. Ponyboy flushes. He doesn’t know how to respond, just shifts uncomfortably and scuffs his trainers, though he smiles. Randy comes up soon after that, not swaying because he has to drive you home and kiss you goodbye at the door, not saying anything.

he doesn’t grab you, just stops infront of you and, hands on hips, he scolds you. “What are you doing?” He mutters, about to reach for your hand to drag you away. You push him in the chest. “Don’t you touch me.”

Randy frowns, heaves a weary sigh. “Look, i already said i’m sorry. i’ll take you home now but . . .” He offers you his hand and you don’t take it. He waves it towards ponyboy, wrinkling his nose derisively. “-You don’t have to goad me by hanging around with people like him.”

You draw up tall and spit at his feet. “go fuck yourself, randy.” and storm away, ponyboy trailing behind you. Randy follows you a little and then, turning round to slap him across the cheek, you snarl. “You’re drunk! Go home!”

it sobers him up a little and he steps back, eyes wide, mouth agape. You’re sick and tired of randy treating you like some little doll that he has to keep in his pocket. you’re sick of men trying to control you. you’re sick and tired of your dad calling you Randy’s ‘little lady.’ You’re sick and tired of bob with his mean eyes and his drunken mumbles and his fights, and you’re really fuckin’ tired of randy because he jumped that kid.

You keep walking until you grow cool. You can’t look at him, feel to embarrassed and angry. He’s the first to speak, not you. “You want me to . . . walk you home?” and when you look at him, he’s running his fingers through ruffled hair, blinking frantically, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and tries to muster up the courage. You offer him your hand and he takes it, nervous. His palm is clammy and sticky with sweat and you really wanna wipe your own hand against your skirts, but he’s sweet and you don’t want to feel alone tonight.

it’s quiet while you walk. Your knuckles brush against his, bruises knuckles and callous thumbs, a stark contrast to your long nails and dainty fingers and lack of bruises. he should be intimidating, some people find him scary but he doesn’t seem so mean now. His eyes are cold, his face still as sculpted snow and he’s tried to slick his hair back a bit, but he smiles a little. you’re content to walk with him, pleased to glance over at him from the side. Ponyboy stops and, furrowing his brow, he contemplates you. He studies you like a book, flicking through the worn pages of your mind. “You’re real pretty, you know that?”

He likes how you look, clean and fresh and smelling like lavender, a little bit of vanilla, some fresh linen. You lean towards him and want to meet his gaze but can’t. his breath is hot against your face. The night isn’t cold but you get Goosebumps, little shivers when he traces a pattern over your palm with his thumb. “You cold?” He mumbles, noticing the slight shudder.

You wrinkle your nose and shake your head, tugging his hand to urge him to keep walked. There isn’t much to say as you walk, can’t say much or even giggle, because then the laughter would die down and it would grow silent again, and you’d spend the rest of the walk wondering what you’d done wrong. When you come a stop, not really outside your house but at the end of the streetlamp lit road, he pulls you close. Ponyboys heart skips a single beat.

You’re own heart is hammering in your chest, thumping and thundering like a rabbits. he leans forward and brushes a single strand of hair behind your ear. Your silver earrings glint in the light. You relax into his touch, his palm really warm. it’s a comforting heat. His eyes soften, lips curling into a smile.

“Night, ponyboy.” You murmur, and then there’s a kiss. not a true one, but a sweet one nonetheless. Just on the cheek, a warm chaste kiss that tastes of peppermint and peach gloss.

“

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oppositeurmama · 3 years

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He loves the heart shape my ass is (Johnny cade x reader)

A/N; I’m churning out these fics like a damn cow bitchessss

Pairings; johnny cade x reader

Warnings; smut, fluff, swearing.

Johnny was the sweetest thing, like sugar and honey and cinnamon. he was the sweetests, saddest and most painful person you’d ever met. There were things about johnny that you didn’t know, couldn’t know, because you could never fully understand, but you saw those little bruises. His mum was a mean old bitch, his dad a tough bastard with a penchant for bruising and beatings. You liked when johnny stayed overnight. Your parents didn’t really approve, but they married young and they couldn’t exactly tell you to send the poor boy out, so when they came into your room each morning and found johnny, snuggling in bed or laying on the floor because the nightmares made him cry too much and he didn’t wanna wake you, they just let him.

They thought you’d lost it already but that didn’t stop them from giving you the talk about protection and pregnancy and how there was a clinic a few miles out of town that was safe and supportive, that if you got knocked up and didn’t wanna keep it, they’d take you and you’d have a choice. You liked they gave you a choice. it was a wasted effort though, because johhny couldn’t muster up enough courage to give you more than a tender kiss, and you were unbothered by sex.

But today was the day. Your parents would be out working late again, as most soc’s workaholics do, so you had johnny over to keep you company. You didn’t know what to do or say, asked sylvia for some advice, talked to dallas ‘cause he knew johnny-cakes best, but it was all for naught. You couldn’t figure out what to do, didn’t have any fancy lingerie or stockings or what most guys like, just a plain white bra and pant set, clean but well-worn. The bra was lacy, if that made it a little more seductive. You felt awkward, though. You were sitting on your bed, legs crossed into a basket, trying to work out how to look sexy when the door burst open and you fell, startled and disgruntled, into a heap on the floor.

“Shit, johnny! Don’t you know how to knock?” You snapped, clambering back onto the bed. You’d hit your ass something awful and there’d be a bruise by tomorrow. Johnny stood by the doorframe, hovering nervously. His hair was slicked back and then he saw you, clad in bra and pants, and his face went red. “Oh, shit, y/n. I’m sorry, i didn't even-”

He dithered in the doorway, turning on his heel and then back, and you shook your head, huffing. “Just get in here, Johnny.” You sniffed, leaning back on the bed. Johnny glanced at you, dark eyes glinting, brows furrowed. “Y/N?”

“Dammit, Johnny. You heard what i said.” You tried to bury yourself under the covers, to hide your shame and humiliation and ire, but you couldn’t tug the damn sheets out. “Fuck!” You cried, angry that it had all backfired.

Johnny closed the door quietly behind him. “Y/N? Why are you . . . oh.” He smiled sheepishly and you slumped over on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I wanted it to be special.” You mumbled, pursing your lips into a frown. “i feel so stupid now.”

He walked slowly to the bed, hands stuffed in his pockets. “You ain’t stupid, doll.” he watched you stare at the ceiling and, hesitantly, reached out to grab you by the ankle. He tugged you down a bit. You let him pull you closer and leaned up, leaning on your elbows to look at him. “Really?”

“yeah, really.” He smiled down at you and, beckoning you close with his finger, you came to him, sitting down on your knees, bum pressed flat against your feet. You swayed a little as the springs in your bed moved, and Johnny caressed your cheek. You liked how Johnny kissed. It was always sweet and slow and never mean, like dally who had stolen your first kiss whilst he was drunk. Johnny was gonna be your first though, and that meant something, if not to him then at least to you.

Johnny’s face is bruised and you make sure not to touch the purple marks. Some guy with rings on busted his lip and cheek three nights ago. You’ll make that son-of-a-bitch pay.

His kiss grew deeper, a little more frantic. you’re cheeks felt hot and flushed, though the AC is on. That queer knot in your stomach twists. “You really wanna do this?” He murmurs, smiling despite his brow furrowing. You smile back at him, with white teeth and dimples dancing. “I’m ready, Johnny.”

Johnny’s hands are warm, not clammy but a little dry. He roams along your body, skim lightly at waist, dancing across your stomach. he makes little Goosebumps rise all over your skin and you shiver when he kisses a soft, sweet spot between collarbone and neck. “You don’t mind, right?” You asked him, words a breathy moan. He sucked a dark mark onto your throat and, “course not.”

He kissed a trail down to your vee. You’d shaved because Sylvia had said it felt better when shaved. You wanted to get something out of it. it wasn’t fair if Johnny got to have all the fun. His fingers ghosted over your panties, plain white cotton, and he tugged them down past your hips with tanned fingers. Johnny kneeled down at the bottom of the bed and scooted you over, lifting his hand up and placing it on your knees. “Do you want me to touch you?” he asked, his words a mere whisper.

You swallowed back that weird feeling and nodded slowly. He leaned down to place a kiss on your inner thigh, gentle as always. You were exposed, feeling a little silly and ashamed, but then he took your other hand and squeezed it. it was a comfort, a little thing that made you feel a whole lot better. His hand slid down over your mound, coming to falter at your clit. He used two fingers, rubbing little circles and creating friction, just enough to make you twitch. There was a knot in your stomach, a little smile coming over your face.

“That alright?” He murmured, sliding one finger into your pussy. You gasped and shifted, the feeling a little uncomfortable, a strange feeling that made you frown and furrow your brows, confused. “I’m gonna put two inside now, okay? We can stop if your not sure.”

You ignored him and clutched the bedsheets when he slipped a second inside. His thumb grazed your clit and you swore. He raised an eyebrow and did it again, softer this time, not as fast. he built you up to a steady release. Whilst johnny still pumped his fingers in and out, his thumb grazing your clit, he unbuckled his jeans with his left hand. You swatted his hand away and he pulled his fingers from your pussy, making you whine despite wanting him to step back. “You can say no, y/n.” He reminded you, to which you looped your arms around his neck and brought him in for a kiss.

He rolled a condom on his cock. You couldn’t bear to look at it. He kicked off his jeans, his t-shirt still on, denim jacket laying messily on the floor. Johnny placed his hand at the back of your neck and gently laid you down on the bed. You felt the tip of his cock press against your pussy. His other hand gripped your hip, positioning you so it wouldn’t hurt as much. You kicked your legs up and wrapped them around his waist. he palmed your breast with his hand, kneading i gently. His cock disappeared into your pussy.

“Ah, fuck.” It didn’t hurt, just stung a little and made you wince. You shut your eyes and didn’t look down, didn’t want to see his cock going all the way in. “Fuck, thats a tight fit.” he cursed, biting down on his lip. You let your eyes snap back open, and his face was furrowed in concentration. He was panting, smiling a little. he went slow, a little bit nervous.

“Here, doll.” He murmured, and slid his hand under your ass, bringing you up a lttle higher. Johnny shifted his hips a little and then, like some electric bolt had struck you, you moaned and your toes curled, back arching. he nudged that spot that so many people talk about and go mad trying to find. You gripped his shoulder, hair falling and spreading over the pillow. He leaned down to kiss you, murmuring small words of comfort.

The knot in your stomach tightened. Johnny sucked a hickey onto your neck and picked up the pace of his thrusts, his breath hot against feverish skin. Johnny slid his tongue against your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth the second he pressed your fingers against your clit, moaning. His cock nudged your sweet spot, your fingers working your clit. His back was damp with sweat, beads of perspiration dripping down his forehead. You couldn´t hold back. Your thighs squeezed around Johnny’s hips, your walls clenching around his cock. His hips stuttering and he fell forwards, near crushing you but catching his eight with his elbows on the mattress, his hands cupping your face.

you were so fucked out and exhausted all you could do was melt completely beneath him. he pulled out of you with a curse, then chuckled, laying back down beside you. You couldn´t help but smile up at him. he leaned over to press his lips to yours. You melted into the kiss, placing your hand on his cheek carefully , threading fingers through his hair.

“Wow.” You murmured, blushing and hiding your face behind hands. He just snuggled up beside you and, raising his eyebrow, grinned. he wiped a trickle of sweat from his forehead. “Shower?” He mumbles, and you don’t even bother shaking your head. just drag him into the bathroom and turn the cold water on blast.

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oppositeurmama · 3 years

Text

My 🐱 tastes like Pepsi cola (Sodapop X reader)

Warnings! Smut and swearing ;)

Pairings; sodapop x reader

Summary; It’s hot in the DX and you’re bored. What can you do?

“Soda, you nearly finished?” You questioned, sighing as sweat dribbled down your forehead. Soda didn’t answer, just grunted and clattered away while he fixed up the rusty car. You hopped out of the hot, stuffy car and slammed the door shut. It was too hot today, and soda had promised it would take an hour at the most. Four hours of baking under the hot sun while he tinkered around with a rusty car that didn’t even run, and you had grown irritated. He was supposed to be coming over for dinner tonight. your parents would be really pissed.

“Where you goin’?” Soda grumbles, emerging from beneath the car, He’s all dirty and has soot marks on his face. You lean down and wipe a streak of dirt from his cheek and smile, sweating through your thin summer dress. “I need a drink.”

“Grab me one?”

You feel his eyes on you as you dart away to grab two cokes from the fridge. You lean on the counter, totally bored. You stay there for five minutes, shielded from the hot sun. Soda trails over, wiping his dirty face with a rag. He’s panting heavy and you offer him the coke, which he takes and places next to his temple. The DX is empty. Steve’s not here, just you and soda, The thought makes you wicked, teasing him with a grin.

“What’re you smirkin’ at?” soda says, smiling.

You jump onto the counter and let feet dangle, legs spread apart just a little. Frilly white socks, black mary jane shoes, dress made of thin white lace. Soda rubs the frothy material between his dirty fingers and you swat him away, grinning. “You’re gonna make me all messy.” You protest, wrinkling your nose.

Soda leans forward, placing his coke down on the counter before resting his mucky hands on your hips. He licks his lower lip, bites it a little. “Your a fuckin’ tease, you know that.”

He kissed you, pushing his tongue into your mouth. You giggle behind his mouth, eyes widening, lashes fluttering. He shifts you forward on the counter, closer to him, wedging his thigh between yours. Soda’s never one for wrapping it. he’s too careless, far too clumsy and forgetful. he holds his dick in his hand, groaning as he pulls your panties to the side. You let your arms fall lazily over his shoulders, leaning your head over and pressing a soft kiss to his tanned neck.

You gasped as his tip slipped inside of you. Soda’s impatient, he’s not the type to wait. He slammed into you relentlessly from there on, grinning as he tilts his head back a little. His hand is around your waist, dragging you closer, the other one is under your chin, making you look at him. Soda’s hands leave bruises.

His hips snapped back, toned torso tightening. kissing you real sloppy, rough hand sliding up your thigh as he nipped at your shoulder. He growled as you rolled your hips. “Yeah, you like that? such a little slut, couldn’t even wait . . . five fuckin’ minutes . . . fuckin’ tease.” His strong arm snaked around your torso and loosened the laces on your dress. He leans down, mouth over nipple, using a little bit of teeth because he’s mean like that.

“Shit, soda.” Your release spilled all over him, dripping. Your body was bruised and sticky, you could feel yourself throbbing as he leaned back up to kiss you. You let distorted moans hurtle past his lips, mascara running. He jerked against your tight walls, and then he spilled. Gross.

He grabbed your hand and kissed you again, grinning. “Come on baby, i’d better get you home now.”

#sodapop #sodapop curtis #the outsiders smut #the outsiders lemon #fliuff #fluff #lemon #smut #angst #swearing #rough sex #the outsiders x reader smut #the outsiders fanfiction #sodapop curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #sodapop x reader smut

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oppositeurmama · 3 years

Text

My boyfriends pretty cool (Dallas winston x reader)

A/n; I love the outsiders btw so do me a favour and write more fics bitchesssssss

summary; car sex with dallas winston ;)

pairings; Dallas x reader

Dallas likes danger. It calls to him like some strange siren and he can’t help but fall head over heels in love with it. he’s like a danger-magnet, if that makes sense. and you’ve always liked the bad boys, the ones who smoke cigarettes and like to drink and party ‘till they drop, the boys from the ‘bad’ side of town that fuck any girl they can, and the ones that you really should stay away from. You like danger, and Dallas likes you. But it scares you to hell when he drives.

dally gets roadrage. he tries to keep calm and cool but he can’t, his brow furrows and he frowns, and he makes you light him another cigarette. He likes to touch when he drives at night, lazy hand over the steering wheel, cigarette hanging limply from his lip, the other hand tucked neatly between your thighs. His hand tightens over the steering wheel when he glances down appraisingly, brow raised when his other hand shifts your skirt up a little.

“Dally!” You cry, swatting him away as you go pink. His jaw ticks and he presses your hand to his mouth, kissing it gently. His knuckles are white, translucent over bone. “C’mon baby.” he murmurs, leaning back against the seat. His hand delves deeper, spreading your legs. he’s a godawful tease.

There’s something illicit though, about doing something like this at night and on the road. He’d a menace and the worst boy you could ever hope to dream of, but you really fuckin’ love him. you’ll bet he loves you too, even a little. he pulls over and you wanna cry to god, halleluja, fuck yeah!

You hate when he drives like this, dangerous and disastrous and you know one day he’s gonna get himself hurt. He pulls over to the side of the road, the dusty single-track road, half-hidden in the shadows because no-one will see you. no one will see two dumbasses fuckin’ each other in the backseat of some car a delinquent fixed up, cigarette hanging from his lip.

He flicks the cigarette away. “C’mere darling.” He murmurs, smiling a little. he manhandles you, gripping you by the hips and pulling you onto his lap. He’s hard beneath the denim and you grind against his hips, as his knee comes up to wedge between your thighs, teasing you. “Oh, dally.” You sigh, kissing him. He laughs behind your hungry mouth and you grip at his brown hair, tugging him closer, teasing him like he does with you. it’s cramped and uncomfortable and it’s not so cold anymore, but you really wish dally would just hurry up.

His hands are on your ass and he squeezes it roughly, smacking one cheek as he sinks his teeth into your plush lower lip. “Someone's frustrated.” He grunts, hands tightening on your hips. You can’t even think of an insult back though. Dally chuckles cruelly and the drivers seat slides back, creaking as it does. You tumble forwards, moaning into his mouth when he gets his hand beneath your skirts, itching to take and to take, to give something back. “Fuck, you’re wet.”

Your eyelashes flutter, grinning when he slips a hand into your underwear, plain white cotton, nothing fancy. His thumb grazes your clit and you jolt towards him, as his hips buck. you grind on his fingers. “Needy little slut.” He spits, his words low and dirty and mean. “Couldn’t wait, could you?”

his cock is hard against his stomach. He grips you by the waist and pulls you down onto his cock, brows furrowed, teeth catching your lip when you whine. He smooths the damp, sweaty hair from your eyes, thrusts his hips upward to make you kiss him back. You do, kiss him like it’ll kill you both if you don’t.

“That’s it, baby.” His chest is heaving and he’s panting, head back against the leather head-rest, sighing and smiling, tasting like whiskey and cigarette smoke. His fingers stroke your clit in slow circles and you shiver. Dallas wraps his other arm around your waist, bringing you close. his cock hits that spot deep inside that makes your toes curl, and you can’t help but think that he really should’ve wrapped it. his hands grip your hips tight, fucking you through the orgasm as he chases his own, hips stuttering clumsy, still working your clit with his calloused thumb and forefinger. He’s still going, and you push at his chest, laughing a little but still sore. “Again?” You question, shifting uncomfortably.

It’s really late. His eyes are hooded, half-dilated and dark in the shady moonlight. “Your parents are gonna kill you anyway.” he shrugs, rocking slowly. You whine and lean back against the steering wheel when he comes close, taking your tit out from your top. He circles the nipple, tweaking it as he smirks. His eyes are challenging, a warning and a threat. “You’re a real bad influence, y/n.” He sighs, raising a brown eyebrow.

You scoff, “Wait, what? me?”

You fall forwards onto his chest when he moves his hips again. You lean, head on his shoulder, buried in his neck. He traces patterns on your back with his big hands. Dally doesn’t even bother trying to respond.

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